


Home Truths

by LlawenGwaed



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s04e15 Hunters, Episode: s07e12 Lineage, F/M, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:13:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LlawenGwaed/pseuds/LlawenGwaed
Summary: A little bit inspired by Philip Larkins 'This be the verse.' (Which involves the f'word- see notes).Behind every good marriage is a spouse willing to deal with their beloveds parents. Missing scenes from the novel ‘Homecoming,’ but stand alone well enough. This takes place within about 36 hours of Endgame. Ties into various series events.There's nothing wrong with a showdown at a party, so long as no-one makes a scene.
Relationships: B'Elanna Torres & John Torres, Owen Paris & B'Elanna Torres, Owen Paris & Tom Paris, Tom Paris & John Torres, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	Home Truths

It was one thing to endure a pompous Starfleet banquet in San Francisco to celebrate Voyager's return. It was another to pack the relatives and friends of the entire crew into one room and let what should have been intimate and emotional reunions happen in a public and formal setting.

B’Elanna had not been sure she had wanted to see her father. She had said yes to his attendance in a post childbirth fluster, her heart pounding and fingers crushing Tom’s hand as she glimpsed her father in the flesh for the first time in nearly two decades.

Between that and knowing there was some sort of news regarding her mother- it was too much. She wanted to get out of there. If it hadn’t have been for Tom, and his surprisingly supportive parents she’d have taken Miral, fled from the room and found the nearest comm link to make the call to Boreth.

As things were, Tom had kept her calm and had helped her look for a quiet spot to feed the baby.

She elected to use the empty corridor and sat on the floor, baby across her lap while she tried to figure out how to expose enough flesh without removing the entire dress uniform. She could only conclude that Starfleet dress uniforms were not made with mothers of newborn's in mind.

Tom had knelt on the floor beside her for a moment, cupping her face with his hand. He looked at her and the baby at her breast adoringly, just taking a moment to steal some intimacy from a busy and overwhelming evening. By all rights the three of them should have been curled up in their quarters on Voyager, adjusting to life being a family of three in comfort and quiet. It felt like too much of the universe had changed at once.

Electing to go back before he was missed, Tom left B’Elanna to feed Miral. He’d been gone a few minutes when the doors to the banqueting room opened and closed and Owen Paris stepped outside, faced the closed door and let out a sigh of relief.

B’Elanna smiled, slightly comforted than even the higher echelons could find functions of this type overwhelming. He turned and saw her- and that she had ventured out here to get some privacy.

“Oh I’m sorry.”

“No- it’s fine.” B’Elanna said just as Miral decided to unlatch, leaving her exposed for a moment before she encouraged her daughter to latch on again. “Just- trying to get the hang of this while half the galaxy isn’t watching.”

“Would you like a chair-“

“It’s fine.” B’Elanna said hearing that she was perhaps a little too curt. “Thank you.”

They both went to speak at the same time, both stopping to give each other room to speak. B’Elanna took a moment to register that her and Tom did similar when about to have a difficult conversation. Tom was a lot like his father in subtle ways. Both were charming, stubborn, and when not caught up being single minded- very kind.

Owen gave a small smile. “Tom has been- very willing to let go of the past. I’m guessing I have you to thank for that.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” B’Elanna shifted as she spoke. As kind as Owen had been, she had to remind herself that he had not always been his way, and when she did it surfaced in a vicious memory. “I think he just realised holding old grudges might make him a bitter old man one day.”

Her eyes cut through him, like a Bat’leth to the heart. “Wh-“

“The letter you sent three years ago.” She intoned, softly so not to disturb the baby,

Closing his eyes for a moment, Owen grimaced and looked away.

“Tom never read it.” She continued, causing Owen to look back. She stretched out her back as she spoke softly. “We didn’t recover all the data sent via the relay station. So when I saw what it said- I told him it never downloaded. He doesn't know.”

Silence followed for a moment. The two of them taking a moment to read the others expressions. 

“Thank you.” Owen finally said. He hadn’t been sure what had made Tom relent, what had made his son come back to being part of the family. Now, he knew at least part of the credit had been due for his daughter-in-law covering a near unforgivable error in judgement on his part.

“I didn’t do it for you.” She shook her head as Miral gurgled. “I couldn’t face handing him those words and having it confirmed that he was irredeemable in your eyes.”

Owen nodded, then knelt on the floor in front of her, seeing her dark eyes scrutinising him. He sighed, hanging his head a moment before meeting her gaze head on.

“I told Julia I didn’t have time to write a note.” He said barely above a whisper. “She was furious- but not like she would have been if she’d read what I sent him.” He looked downward now, his shoulders heavy with shame. “You’re right. I was a bitter old man.”

“After I sent the letter out, and we didn’t hear from Voyager again I began to think things through. I asked myself what sort of man wouldn’t be joyful at the news his son was alive.”

He looked up at her. She gave him a look that said ‘do you really want an answer to that.’

“I know.” Owen nodded. “The same sort of man who asks his son not to embarrass the family any further. Who only wants to relive someone’s faults and not recognise what they’ve achieved.”

***

_It was 3AM, and Owen had not been able to sleep, rolling over and over in his mind the words he’d sent to his son. He’d spent so much of the past years focusing on how Tom had let him, the family, Starfleet, the federation- down. He had not been able to face telling his wife what he had sent to their son. That it caused him shame to think of the ill-chosen, self-important words he had sent. Owen started to think differently._

_Perhaps he had let his son down._

_Tom had been presumed dead for over three years. Officially dead for a year. No Starfleet memorial service. No family funeral. Just Owen locking himself in his office and trying to bury himself in his work. Maybe it was better this way, no more incidents or embarrassments._

_Then last week, a message from Voyager’s EMH. In the brief download before the hologram was returned, a compliment and crew manifest was given. And Tom was listed as crew._

_Owen walked through the house, realising that Julia had reinstated several pictures of Tom. They hadn’t been hidden, but moved to less prominent positions, where visitors wouldn’t notice and bring up the painful subject of the late, wayward son. Where his parents would be less likely to catch sight and have to contemplate the complex layers of grief._

_He smiled as he surveyed the favourite images of his son; as a teenager looking up from a PADD with slight petulance- his reading interrupted, the pensive one of him as a cadet, his graduation picture. There was a swell of pride from thinking of his Son in a Starfleet uniform again._

_His son the officer. Not that any rank should matter. Tom was alive._

_His son._

_Despite being barefoot, Owen opened the porch door and stepped out onto the grass- looking up at the clear night sky. He lay down on the grass for a moment. He’d let the grass grow too long. It was dewy as he rested on it, remembering a time when the grass was cut short as the kids ran back and forth all summer long. Remembering the summer that picture of teenage Tom was taken- his legs seemed to double in length as the season drew on, faster- taller. No longer the wide eyed six year old who used to lie in the grass, stargazing with his dad._

_Before he laid too many expectations on his son. Before he started to worry that Tom wasn’t going to make the grade. Back when Tom would point upward and ask the names of the stars and dream of visiting them all._

_“Be safe,” he said quietly- wishing that he could be heard halfway across the galaxy._

_‘What use is that?’ He thought to himself. ‘The last thing he may ever hear from you is how disappointed you still are.’_

_The truth stung. ‘What a stupid, bitter old fool you are.’_

_If he could have five minutes with Tom, to talk. To explain. Apologise. Would Tom relent and accept the apology? Would he walk away? Owen didn’t know if that mattered any more._

_He couldn’t let the angry, selfish words he sent be the last thing that passed between him and his son. He would atone. And he would start now._

_Owen rose from the grass, stepped up on to the porch, into the house and went into his study. He activated his desktop and spoke. “Computer. Send a request to meet with Starfleet Commander and Chief at their earliest convenience.”_

_“Please state the nature of the meeting request.” The default setting Starfleet computer voice rang out,_

_“Meeting regarding, facilitating contact and assistance to USS Voyager in Delta Quadrant, via research and development project.”_

_He paused a moment to swallow the lump from his throat. “I have reconsidered the offer, and would like to oversee the project.”_

_“Request sent.” The computer confirmed._

_He walked back out of the study and picked up the picture of Tom as a cadet._

_“I’ll find you Tom. I’m not giving up on you.”_

_***_

B’Elanna could see Owen reliving those thoughts, his eyes a little glassy. She hadn’t intended to upset him, but she needed him to know that the letter was never received, and she was aware of its spiteful content.

Miral had dozed off, leaving B’Elanna awkwardly trying to manoeuvre the infant and refasten her uniform. When she looked up, Owen had offered his arms to take the baby. She passed Miral to him. “Careful. You don’t want her to spit up on you before your speech,” she intoned with a half-smile.

They both stood, B’Elanna puling her dress uniform straight before taking the baby back. There was a pause as she was passed- Miral was half in her mothers, half in her grandfather’s arms. 

“I’m sorry you saw those-“ he hesitated to find an appropriate phrase- “ugly words, B’Elanna.”

She nodded, accepting the apology as she fully held Miral. “And I’m sorry I put you in a position where you had to deceive Tom.”

Her father-in-law reached out and cupped her cheek, much like her husband had a few minutes ago. His voice choked with gratitude.

“Thank you for bringing him back to us.”

****

There was one thing to be said for having grown up a Starfleet brat. Tom knew how large ceremonial dinners were run, he knew them well enough to have a discreet conversation in the middle of a crowd.

He’d wondered for some time how this meeting would go- if it ever took place. But since B’Elanna became pregnant, since the soul crushing truth about her blaming herself for her father leaving had flooded out of her, Tom knew he couldn’t just be a spectator to this.

When he looked at John Torres, cradling newborn Miral, Tom felt a white hot peak of rage in his chest. The damage that man had inflicted on B’Elanna. The cowardice in walking away because a twelve year old was angry at you.

The twelve year old whose emotional wound never closed, to almost dire consequences. Who twenty years later cried herself to sleep from the pain of it. Tom tried not to get lost in the memory of that night.

He’d managed to get her back to their quarters with discretion, after narrowly averting their daughter losing her Klingon heritage. B’Elanna all but collapsed in his arms, finally worn down to the most vulnerable he’d ever seen her. All Tom could do was keep telling her he would never leave her, his arms encircling, feeling every sob shudder through her. 

When she did sleep, he ran the past five years he’d spent with B’Elanna in his head. Almost every time she told him to leave he walked away- and now she couldn’t quite trust that he would never leave, because he kept walking away from her. Arguments they’d had were no longer just arguments in his mind, they were tests of how worthy of love she was- which in her eyes she kept failing. He thought he’d given her space that she needed to work through things. Instead he started to think that all he’d done was feed the long shadow of her father’s rejection. 

Now he was face to face with John Torres. This was no longer a case of being an overzealous lover of someone who was capable of fighting their own battles, but of protecting his family.

B’Elanna was talking to Tom’s dad. They’d been in pretty much full conversation since walking back into the room together.

Tom approached Chakotay, knowing he could use an ally in this, and spoke softly. “Can you distract B’Elanna for me?”

He gave Tom a quizzical look, not entirely sure what Tom was up to.

Tom glanced towards John in reply. ‘A reckoning,’ Chakotay thought to himself. “Nothing drastic I hope?” He confirmed.

“Nothing a friendly chat won’t straighten out.” Tom gave with a weak smile.

A moment passed before Chakotay decided to allow himself to be drafted. Tom wasn’t going to make a scene, “Sveta- let’s go catch up with B’Elanna.”

Watching as his wife embraced former Marquis, Tom walked over to his father in law, who was still holding the baby. He leaned in and touched the older man on the shoulder.

“John-“ Tom began by throwing out a smile.” I need you to keep smiling and nodding just now.”

“What do you mean?” John said as his face nearly dropped into a frown before Tom made a hand gesture.

“I mean if B’Elanna looks over she can see we’re just having a nice friendly chat.” The smile on Tom’s face was changing.

John gave a nervous laugh. “Tom, I-“

“If B’Elanna wants you to be part of this family, I’ll accept that. I’d like my daughter to know all her grandparents. But I want to be clear about this.”

It was strange, because as Tom’s smile got wider his words got harsher. He’d have to thank his dad for having used this trick on him to stop him drinking too much at his graduation.

The unnerving grin on Toms face continued as he spoke. “If you’re going to walk away again because things get difficult, then you need to leave now. I will not let you put my daughter through what you put B’Elanna through.”

Horrendously uncomfortable, John found he returned the eerie grin. “Tom- there’s nothing I can say that will make up for what I did.” He admitted quietly.

****

_John hadn’t expected to see the face of his estranged wife appear on the viewscreen. His heart twisted, in dread but also a flutter of hope. They had not spoken in over a decade._

_“Miral-“ He started to say before she cut him off._

_“Keep your human civility to yourself John.” She spat. “I have no need of it.”_

_Miral sighed, seeming struggling with something. “I must give you the news-“ her voice wavered a moment “-that our daughter is dead.”_

_In all credit to Miral, she allowed John time to digest the news. She had already wept for her child, privately. Even though they were estranged she hoped that John would at least have the decency to feel the loss of their daughter as keenly as she did._

_And as the news sunk in, John realised that ‘when she’s old enough to understand’ was a cowardly way to say never._

_His daughter was six months short of her twenty-fourth birthday. She’d been so bright. So much she could have done with her life. There’s so much he’ll never say to her._

_***_

Tom looked straight into John’s dark eyes. He hadn’t yet realised from who B’Elanna had inherited the eyes he so often got lost in.

“You’re right.” Tom nodded and smiled. “There isn’t any thing you can say. You have no idea what you did to her. Of how hard it is for her to let anyone be close to her.”

It was really getting tough to keep this stupid smile attached to his face right now, but Tom needed this to be said. “As far as B’Elanna and I are concerned, I’m going to be dealing with the fallout you created for the rest of my life. Because when I tell her I’m never leaving her- I mean it.”

Looking down, Tom touched his daughters hand and felt a genuine grin rise through him as her tiny fingers grasped his index finger as she slept.

“So, you’ve already screwed up my wife,” he continued, not feeling the need to say this in a more eloquent fashion. “If you do anything to hurt my daughter-.”

“I understand.” John nodded

“Good.” Tom grinned before reaching over and taking his daughter into his arms. “I think there’s some ex-marquis who’d like to meet her.”

As Tom took his sleeping daughter in his arms and started to cross to where Chakotay, B’Elanna and the other former Marquis stood, his father moved to intercept him.

Owen had shot a look to his wife that had sent her over to John Torres. The admiral touched his son on the arm and beamed down at his Grand-daughter. He spoke to Tom without looking up, employing the same technique he’d seen his son use moments before.

“What was that?” He asked, keeping a faux smile going as he reached and brushed his fingertips at the baby’s cheek.

“Just a family heart to heart.” Tom looked down at Miral, barely able to keep the smile on his face.

“Your poker game must be better than his.” Owen commented, noting that his wife had started speaking in an animated fashion to engage John Torres before B’Elanna could see anything had happened, Julia’s hands were expressing wildly.

“I just don’t get it, Dad.” Tom said, swallowing back a rush of emotion as he watched his child sleep in his arms. “How could he just leave?”

Owen felt a surge of pride, and kinship with his son. He wanted Tom to never forget this feeling, to hold tight to his love for Miral. Not to let ego or expectation to get in the way, because she was perfect the way that she was.

Owen put his hand on Tom's shoulder, wanting him to know right now how loved and supported he was. “You want me to get security to take John for a walk?” Owen joked.

Tom glanced back at John, chuckling. His arms were crossed but he was smiling and nodding along with Julia’s animated story. “No,” he said turning back to his father.

“I think the air was cleared sufficiently.”

With that, three generations of the Paris family walked, or were carried in Miral’s case towards the group of former Marquis.

**Author's Note:**

> This Be The Verse
> 
> BY PHILIP LARKIN
> 
> They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  
> They may not mean to, but they do.  
> They fill you with the faults they had  
> And add some extra, just for you.
> 
> But they were fucked up in their turn  
> By fools in old-style hats and coats,  
> Who half the time were soppy-stern  
> And half at one another’s throats.
> 
> Man hands on misery to man.  
> It deepens like a coastal shelf.  
> Get out as early as you can,  
> And don’t have any kids yourself.


End file.
